


i could be the thing you reach for in the middle of the night

by blueabsinthe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Communication Failure, Introspection, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2646248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Ben’s other hand pushes up under Val’s shirt, digging his fingers into the skin where the ‘A’ would be on his jersey.</i> </p><p>(Or, Ben and Valtteri finally figure out what it is they want in their life).</p>
            </blockquote>





	i could be the thing you reach for in the middle of the night

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song 'Last Person' by Jenny Owen Youngs.

Val arrives in Tampa on a late August night. He hadn't noticed it then, and he barely notices it now. What he does notice is how Tampa always seems warm, a touch of humidity hanging in the air, even with it being late fall now. 

He takes in the sky-reaching palm trees from his spot at Ben’s apartment window, hands cupped around his coffee cup. Val cannot help but think how disconcerting it will be to not see at least one flake of snow on the window ledge. In Detroit it would be cold and damp now, with the city anticipating snow. He told himself when he signed with Tampa, he was looking forward to endless summer weather. Except, sometimes, he misses the cold. Misses the bite of the wind against his cheeks, and the way his breath would fog. 

Val hears Ben as he approaches him. He sees his reflection in the glass, and can't help but smile. He used to think the sun and humidity suited him, but now he realizes Ben would be comfortable wherever he was. He is still in a ratty old pair of sweatpants, and a tank top. It shows off his wrists, pale forearms, and smooth skin. 

“It’s freezing in here,” Ben notes, as he comes to stand next to him. “Aren’t you cold?”

Val shrugs, and continues to stare out the window. 

Their reflection's gazes meet then, both of them sizing up the other's unspoken questions as best they could. 

"Do you ever think about Ottawa, pet?”

"About …” Ben starts, “about what?"

“How different things would be if your trade never happened?” Val swallows around the lump in his throat. “About …” Val’s voice trails off, his eyes sliding to look at the floor, the question he has dying on his lips. 

The silent stretches between them. Val goes over what Ben’s possible answer would have been if he managed to get the question out. He knows what he wants Ben to say. What he hopes Ben will say. It makes his blood tingle. And, all he wants to do is reach for Ben’s wrist, tug him close, and let his fingers trace the spot at the base of Ben’s spine. When he runs his fingers over Ben’s skin it’s like tracing the lines and curves of a familiar map, except with every brush of his fingers, another unplotted area would appear. Val can smell Ben’s cologne, and soap, the pale skin of his limbs like untouched snow.

“I’d like to think that even if I hadn’t been traded, we’d still end up here, somehow.”

Val turns his attention away from the window and sets his mug down on the nearby table. Ben’s words play over and over in his mind, and he wants to say something, but he feels so overwhelmed, he’s not sure he can form words. He wants to hold him so badly but he doesn’t dare. But Ben knows, he always seems to know what Val is thinking without him having to say a word. Ben crosses the small space between them, wraps his arms around Val’s shoulders. Val pulls him tight to his chest and sneaks the tips of his fingers under the hem of Ben’s shirt. His skin is warm under Val’s fingertips. 

Val can feel Ben tug him closer. His touch is gentle against his back and he can feel his heart beating.

-

Val still remembers the first time they kissed. They had been dragged out to South Tampa, with some excuse about it being for belated birthday drinks for one of the guys on the team. He found himself looking up into Ben’s blue eyes one moment after they both bowed out early from the bar, watching the way the dim street lights played over Ben’s features, and thinks how vulnerable he looked in that instant.

He is all too aware of how close they’re standing, of how he can see the way Ben’s pulse point jumps in his neck. Val sees himself move, but it is almost like he is watching someone else, as though he is watching a movie play out in front of him. He presses Ben up against a darkened corner, and lets his mouth touch his. 

When Ben did not push him away, he felt much the same way he does now after hearing Ben’s words. 

_“I’d like to think that even if I hadn’t been traded, we’d still end up here, somehow.”_

-

For months after their initial first kiss, Val had not been able to get the taste of Ben out of his mouth. It lingered on his lips, against his tongue. Like the way the cold clung to his limbs. 

Even up until the moment they both decided to admit what they were doing was much more than a quickie here and there, Ben’s taste still lingered. If Val was honest, the way Ben tasted was like a small piece of what mattered. 

-

Val could count on one hand the number of people he had cared about, or thought he’d loved. He loved them in the only way he possibly could. He watched their tears as he left their apartment for the last time, or when they left his. He remembers kissing their cheek for the last time. 

He never thought it possible to feel the way he does with Ben. Never dreamed watching Ben as he slid the sleeves up on his dress shirt would steal his breath. Or how he loves hearing him laugh, how he tilts his head back slightly, his eyes bright and full of life. 

Val wants him so much sometimes it hurts. The kind of hurt that makes someone's insides churn. Makes him want to reach for him in the still of the night when he's awake in bed. 

He still doesn't know what it is they are doing. He doesn't think he'll ever know despite them both defining it. Val doesn’t like the unknown, and what it can bring, but he wants it all the same. Wants to rush towards it, let it catch him in its grasp, and never let him go. 

-

“Why are you asking about that now?” Ben finally asks.

“I just -" Val shuts his eyes, mouths a kiss against Ben’s shoulder. He steps away from Ben and gestures at the space between them with his hand. “I was just curious if this was something you still wanted.” 

Ben is silent for a moment. Then he speaks, his tone low. “I do.” He slides a hand down Val’s arm, before he interlaces their fingers. He brushes his lips against the corner of Val’s mouth. “I got you.”

“Oh,” Val says and leans his head up, presses his mouth against Ben’s. Ben’s hand slips out of his grasp, curling an arm around the back of Val’s neck, fingers tracing the space at the base of his neck. Ben’s other hand pushes up under Val’s shirt, digging his fingers into the skin where the ‘A’ would be on his jersey.

“I got you,” Val repeats, when they break apart, mouth pressed against Ben’s shoulder.

“I know,” Ben says, sliding his hands down to undo the button on Val’s jeans. “I know.” 

-

Ben sleeps beside him that night, facing him, their foreheads touching. They’re like two closed parentheses in this position, their fingers interlaced, Val carding his fingers through Ben’s hair. 

Ben’s eyelashes are dark, and in direct contrast to the pale skin of his face. Val watches as they flutter and eventually open, the blue of his gaze nearly stealing his breath. 

“I’d like to think like that too,” Val finally says.

Ben laughs lightly, before he smacks Val’s shoulder playfully. “Idiot, I know.”

Val offers Ben a small smile, his cheeks dimpling. He laughs then, before he reaches out and rubs his thumb over Ben’s bottom lip. “I got you.” 

“You do,” Ben agrees. 

Ben is the first to drift back into sleep, fingers still tangled with Val’s. 

_“I got you …”_

It’s three simple words, but the meaning isn’t lost on him. They don’t even keep him awake.


End file.
